


Bring All Your Friends (As Long As They Are Chicks)

by Lempo Soi (Lemposoi)



Category: Green Hornet (2011)
Genre: F/M, Female Characters, Minor Character(s), POV Female Character, POV Third Person, Past Tense, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-03
Updated: 2011-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-15 08:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemposoi/pseuds/Lempo%20Soi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ana Lee goes to a party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring All Your Friends (As Long As They Are Chicks)

**Author's Note:**

> Contains: Alcohol use, allusions to drug use, fragile body images, swearing and fierce young women.
> 
> Note: This really is about Ana Lee and not at all about Britt. No explosions, just LA party girls. You have been warned.  
> Note #2: Went to see the film again, fixed details, but James Reid's lecture is still abbreviated.
> 
> I had no beta, so beta-like comments and concrit are welcome.

Ana Lee had considered taping her breasts, but the new dress seemed to cover the bra straps after all. She turned half-way to check the effect in the mirror. Yeah, it was all right. She leaned in closer and looked her face over, searching out little imperfections.

She wished, as she always did, that she had a smaller nose.

There was a quick rap on the door. "Are you peeing?" Caro's voice came muffled from the other side. "'Cause I kinda need to go."

"No, I'm coming out." Caro slipped into the bathroom as Ana came out. She often said Ana was too polite. If it had been Caro in the bathroom, she would have stayed another five minutes just admiring her work even if Ana had been practically peeing her pants outside.

Ana wandered through the apartment towards the kitchen and fixed herself a drink. Everything at Caro's place was shiny, or at least everything she could afford to make shiny, which included the cheap glass table in the main room, the wardrobe with its mirrored doors, and the row of bottles over her kitchen counter, which she insisted on calling a bar. Ana Lee downed her scotch and stretched, cracking her shoulders, and glanced at the wardrobe to check just one more time that the electrolysis on her armpits wasn't failing her yet.

She did look good, she thought, with her frame bent back and arms over her shoulder and her concave belly sucked even more in. Yeah, it would do, even in this town.

"So where are we going tonight?" she shouted to Caro. "You haven't said."

The flush of the toilet drowned out the reply. "It's going to be awesome," Caro added as she came out of the bathroom, but that didn't mean anything. Caro always thought it was going to be awesome, or at least said so, even when they ended up on some would-be-producer/used car salesman's 50th birthday party sitting next to someone's elderly aunt. "We'll be swimming in booze and celebrity cock." She briefly mimed a blowjob, her pink tongue licking theatrically.

"Just booze?" Ana smiled.

Caro laughed. "Of course not. _Britt Reid_ , Ana, wake up."

 _Well,_ Ana thought, _there won't be any elderly aunts._

*

They could feel the music almost before they could hear it. The Stanford hotel was lit up like a piece of heaven in the night, one balcony overflowing with people. No prizes for guessing where the party was. The taxi pulled up to the door and the girls clambered out.

"We should've been here sooner," Caro complained. "We could've missed, like, Colin Farrell."

"We're barely late enough to be fashionable," Ana soothed her. What Caro was saying, without using so many words, was that they shouldn't have stopped by at José's. Caro didn't like José, because his sister was a cop, because he didn't have a lot of money, and because he was the marrying kind. She said she didn't like the person Ana became when she was around him. He said the same thing about Caro.

"Have we got an invitation?"

"You fuck 'em once, you don't need an invitation," Caro said. "Come on." She waved to one of the doormen. "Suite 217, right?"

It was way too early for the party to have really started going, but the noise was filling up the hallway outside the suite. Ana walked towards the beat and the screaming and the laughter and felt the weight of the world start to fall off her shoulders. Her back straightened, her hips swung more and her face melted into a smile.

Ana was in love. Not with Jose or Caro or any particular person – just this. People individually were fickle and cruel and mundane, but the party always welcomed her. She walked gladly into its open arms.

*

"So what do you do?" the party asked. "I model, but what I really want to do is flip burgers", Ana said, and the party laughed. "Haven't I seen you somewhere?" "I don't remember your face. Maybe if you show me your cock?" "Back away, slut." "Did you hear--?" "I'm all about fat girls this year, like that glorious bitch on _Mad Men_ , you know, with the tits." And all around them, the music, the voices, the sweat and perfume, and down her throat, the sweet burn of alcohol.

Caro had disappeared somewhere almost as soon as they arrived, but she showed up again just as Ana was dipping her tongue into the navel of a bisexual English bassist called Gazza, licking up a vodka shot. "Come on, Ana," Caro shouted, but Ana only noticed her when she tugged at her arm. "C'mon girl, there are bigger fish in the sea. And I mean bigger. I hear this guy's hung like a dormouse."

"Wha'?" the bassist said angrily, half-getting up, but losing his feet and sinking back into the couch. Ana handed him a bottle and followed Caro.

"You want to get him early," Caro said, pulling Ana past a throng of people, mostly women, and out down the stairs to the hotel pool. "Otherwise he'll be too plastered to lick pussy, and the guy gives head like a _champion_."

The lit water was casting its magic over the scene, from the tanning beds crowded with women and the dancers and the rows of bottles on flimsy poolside tables to the fine architecture of the hotel itself. Caro pulled Ana towards a thicker throng gathered around a young man in a white suit mixing a drink. "Britt! Hey, Britt, I want you to meet someone."

He looked up from the mixer, slightly blurry eyes in a face that could have been pleasant, if it hadn't been for the way he smiled.

*

Ana wasn't going to fuck him just because he wanted her to. Guys thought that was how it worked, that when you drove a Lamborghini all you had to do was snap of your fingers and pussy would fall into your lap. Ana had never bought into that. Even party girls had their reasons.

She was going to fuck Britt because he was toe-curlingly good at kissing, his cars were sexy as hell, because she was toasted and horny, because he reminded her of all the best things about her first boyfriend, and because she fucking loved to _fuck_.

*

"Aren't we going to go back for what's-her-name?" Ana asked breathlessly, spread-eagled over the pool house sofa at the Reid mansion. A girl who had made out with them both at the party, whose name she didn't remember but who looked like Madonna and Whore all wrapped up in one delicious package, had disappeared somewhere just before they'd took the car to the mansion.

"Fuck 'er," Britt mumbled as he lifted her leg over his shoulder.

"I thought that was the point." Ana gasped, and said no more.

*

Ana woke up with a hangover like fungus spread over her forehead. She was buried comfortably into a sofa-bed under covers that were nearly clean and puffy, but they couldn't make her mouth taste any better. It took her a few moments to remember who the man she was in bed with was. She didn't need to remember, though, to feel pleased at his presence, at the immediacy of his sturdy frame and her body's memory of him.

She wouldn't reach out to touch him, though. That would be taking a liberty. Guys that easy probably didn't want to do you twice. She didn't mind, exactly. She wanted to take a leak and a brush her teeth right now more than she wanted to cuddle, anyway. He was already sitting up and sipping his coffee, making inappropriately sexy noises at it.

"Morning, Ash-ah..."

"Ana Lee," she said sharply, despite the fact she hadn't remembered his name two minutes ago.

There was the sound of a step from the direction of the door. "This is what you want out of your life?" Ana thought for a moment that the voice had addressed her. She peered through cruel morning light at the shadow of a man in a conservative suit standing at the doorway. "Does this give you a sense of satisfaction?"

It was too philosophical for the time of day.

"I spent all night writing about the corruption in this town. And you do nothing."

Ana placed him then – the newspaper magnate, Britt's father. What a dick. She would have been naked if Britt had ever got around to taking off her bra. The elder Reid threw a newspaper on the bed with a cover story about last night's party. Ana picked it up, tuning out the father-son stuff.

"Oh, cool, I'm in the paper." No such thing as bad publicity.

The story was just more trash about how it's a scandal or whatever to have a good time and love life, but the photograph that accompanied it was _beautiful_. She was just a face in the crowd, but in the middle of it was Britt, tilting his head back and pouring liquid down his throat from a glimmering bottle with beautiful people gathered around him, all shouting and screaming and laughing, all part of his beautiful life.

Maybe it wasn't the Lamborghini, but she was beginning to think there was something about a rich man after all, beyond the free coke and a taste of the good life - at least a rich man like Britt. She'd once explained to Caro about Bacchus and the Bacchante; Caro had been home-schooled by her fundie family and didn't know shit about the Classics. "That's what we are," she'd said after Ana had finished. "We'll drink and fuck and rip out hearts and they'll never be able to stop us. We don't worship anyone, except Bacchus, but that's just because he throws the best party. Someone throws a better one, we'll worship him instead." And Ana had thought, yes, exactly, yes.

"Would you sign this for me?" she asked, handing the newspaper to Britt.


End file.
